


I'm Honest With Nobody Else

by samedifference61



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Codependency, Deepthroating, Established Relationship, Jealousy, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, PWP, Pirate Feels, Possessive Behavior, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 16:22:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9499916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samedifference61/pseuds/samedifference61
Summary: Season 4 might kill me. Have some porn to celebrate?“Give me your hands,” Flint says, voice soft but commanding, a captain’s call to action. And Silver is visibly thrown at that. The look of surprise colors something crackling and bright in the blue of his eyes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I haven't watched 4.01 yet, but I just accidentally spoiled myself through Tumblr posts _damnitalltohell, I have zero self control. Cannot look away._ Anyway, I am very tempted to rework this in light of recent events, but I think I'll leave it as it is, and maybe add to it? 
> 
> Just think of this happening before that thing that happened in 4.01.

It’s their shared smile, Flint supposes, that ultimately sets him on edge. 

Madi gives little away, just a slight curve of her lips and calm intent in her eyes as she leans into their conversation, cheek bones carved out by the shadowed firelight. Alternatively, Silver’s smile is all teeth and easy bravado.  Flint isn’t at all sure Silver sees what he’s doing. Or maybe, probably, he knows exactly what he’s doing, and Flint can’t help the way his lip curls into a snarl because that sort of blatant affection was _not_ part of this plan.

There’s a secret fondness developing between Silver and Madi beyond simply keeping each other close for strategic reasons. It’s just out of Flint’s reach, their shared warmth, leaving him with the wild need to snuff it out before giving it time to blaze in their wake.

Instead of acting on that particular thought, Flint takes another long drink of rum and lets a different kind of burn soothe his bones.

+

Later, Silver approaches him with a sleepy grin, further softened by too much drink.

“Madi has a proposal regarding the siege at Nassau,” Silver begins, taking his time up the wooden stairs to join Flint where he is lounging on the shared patio outside their joined huts. Too many stars light the edges of his profile this night, a shade of how he looks upon the quarterdeck of the _Walrus_ at night. Here, the whirring of the sea is replaced with the murmur of island crickets and quieting village life. It surprises Flint how unsettled he feels in the absence of crashing waves.

Flint stretches his feet out to cross at the ankles atop the railing, boots thudding against the wood. “I thought you would be elsewhere at this hour.”

Silver raises an eyebrow, probably catching more petulance than indifference in Flint’s tone, _damn him_. He waits a moment, considering, but must decide not to raise to Flint’s baited comment.

“We should discuss our next move, you and I, decide what we should bring forward to Teach and Rackham,” Silver presses on. Wanting Flint’s full attention, he nudges Flint’s boots over with a firm hand at his shin, so he can lean against the railing directly opposing. Perhaps he’s not as drunk as Flint thought he was. And Flint takes a closer look then. Silver’s curls are swept back from his face and tied high. His formal jacket is lost in the night’s sticky heat, leaving a sand colored tunic with a deep v of stitches down the center and cotton breeches borrowed from the Maroons are covering his lower half. There’s a belt tied loosely at his waist. His gun and sabre are missing from the ensemble and it leaves him far more casually dressed than Flint at this hour, with guns still heavy at his own sides.

Flint hasn’t bothered to undress yet, far too wrapped up in self-pity and irritation to care about much else.

Silver reaches for the bottle of rum in Flint’s hands, taking it to his own lips without asking permission.  There’s an ease and confidence to his movements, his guard lowered under no perceived threat, not even from Flint himself. Knowing he isn’t a threat breeds a familiarity that Flint isn’t used to, but he’ll admit it isn’t entirely unwelcome either.  Flint never knew he could want such a thing, not since Nassau became his home, not since Miranda’s death, and England’s attempt to break him. And what a thing it was, familiarity. When did it become so easy to look upon this man, his partner, his undoing, and always want him near?

“With the news of Charles Vane’s death poisoning this place, I worry Rackham and Teach’s singular priority for revenge will cloud sound judgement and force premature action. If you and I speak as one, it will convince them to wait.” Silver looks at him then, trying to gauge his reaction. “Madi believes this is the way forward.”

Though Flint agrees without doubt, he’s still feeling petty at the mention of Madi, and at Silver for spoiling his mood again, so he scoffs and stretches his arms overhead and says, “Well, if the princess wills it. How could I refuse?”

And Silver just smiles at him, amusement sparkling across his face. “I wish you would express yourself plainly, captain, because what I’m hearing among words left unsaid, is: my affection for her bothers you.”

“Your affection for her blinds you,” Flint corrects.

“No, I believe it’s making certain things quite clear, as far as where your feelings for me stand.” And Silver has the audacity to smile at him as if he’s just been let in on a secret.

_My feelings for you have been made more than obvious_ , Flint thinks, but he also feels backed into a corner, so instead answers too quickly with, “This has nothing to do with you and I,” and slumps further in his chair, so his knee is more firmly against Silver’s forearm.

Then Flint looks away from Silver’s raised eyebrows, feeling the anxiety of such a non-omission color his cheeks. “No, this has everything to do with you and I,” Silver replies. “You’re quite jealous, I can see.”

“You are as free as ever to make your own decisions regarding intimacies. I cannot control your affections, though I would prefer we stick to our original plan.”

Silver strokes his beard, shaped properly now, Flint notes. “I will admit that she intrigues me, but I haven’t fucked her, if that’s what you’re implying.”

Flint bares his teeth. Even the possibility makes him boil hot with annoyance. And Flint feels as though Silver is pushing him into the jealousy on purpose, maybe just to see what kind of reaction he can get.

“She is a means to an end,” Flint grits out and knows his face gives him away. The hot flush of anger cannot be hidden.

“Pardon, but to what end are you referring?” While Silver looks genuinely curious, he is certainly mocking now.

“You know already what I—”

“Truly, I do not, not beyond taking revenge for the wrongs done to you and yours. I have always envisioned a world where you and I do not exist beyond this conflict, so please tell me what happens _after_ that end. If by some small miracle, we survive it.”

They’ve never discussed what comes next, mostly because neither of them can afford to make plans like those. It’s too dangerous, too reckless. Flint remembers making similar plans a lifetime ago, and he could drown in the sorrow that comes with such memories, so he lets them pass, one by one, floating away like driftwood. There simply aren’t words for any of it now, he decides, and a discussion about their next move can most certainly wait for morning.

There are other needs running hot under his skin now, and he may not know how their world will end, but he can control how this night might end.

“Give me your hands,” Flint says, voice soft but commanding, a captain’s call to action. And Silver is visibly thrown at that. The look of surprise colors something crackling and bright in the blue of his eyes.

Relief spreads quickly over Flint, because Silver does as he’s told for once. If Silver were to use his gift for words to ridicule in this moment, Flint simply couldn’t bare it. He sets the rum at his feet and stands at attention in front of Flint with his wrists touching and his palms facing up, like an invisible offering. Flint has it now, permission.

Moving on instinct, Flint unfastens his guns first, letting them fall to the floor, then removes his belt. He takes the weight of it in his hands, but no, it’s far too wide to be effective. No, he needs something else.

Without a word, Silver steps closer and angles his hips forward, offering his own belt. Flint makes a sound of approval, and loosens it slower than his own, taking care not to touch unnecessarily, not yet. The leather of it is warm from being pressed against Silver’s body. He doesn’t look up while he fastens it around Silver’s wrists, looping more than once and pulling tight, so he’s bound palm to palm in a mockery of prayer. Flint avoids Silver’s eyes, but he can hear Silver’s breath hasten. It’s enough.

 “Can you—?” Flint swallows. Flint is a lot of things, but inconsiderate of Silver’s handicap is not one of them.

“Don’t you _fucking_ ask me for it. If we’re going to do it this way— If you want it _this way_ , _demand it of me_ ,” Silver sneers.

And Silver is many things, but possessing the need to do anything in halves is the last one of them. 

Flint stands so they’re toe to toe for a moment, eyes locked in a standoff. Flint seethes at Silver calling him out, and Silver just smiles, eyes half lidded. Flint will certainly do this properly, but only if Silver will always give him that look of heated anticipation spilling over from every part of his being. He takes Silver by the bicep and roughly turns him to sit in the chair Flint had just vacated, crutch falling to the floor. This will be just as satisfying, and doesn’t require Silver to maneuver on his knees.

“You are aware there is a likely chance someone will happen upon us if we remain in this place while I—”

The words die on Silver’s tongue while Flint loosens his trousers and edges them just slightly down his hips until his cock is freed.

“—suck your cock,” Silver finishes slowly, because the man truly cannot leave words left unsaid.

Of course, there are ways to fix that. Flint jerks Silver forward by the back of the neck, meeting only a little resistance, and a sharp warning grunt that is more for show than actual protest. Silver knows what’s coming, welcomes it with his mouth wide open. With his hands restrained, he’s forced to let Flint guide him, and Flint only pauses a few seconds for Silver to draw a deep shuddering breath before he’s taking Flint down his throat with ease.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Flint swears much too loudly as he leans back to grasp the railing behind him with his free hand.  Silver’s mouth on him is never something he finds easy to paint accurately in his sense memory, always more intense and _real_ than his own imagination can seem to reproduce.

Silver brings himself to the edge of the chair, chasing Flint as he moves backward to grip the railing, searching for a good angle without the use of his hands. Twice he seems to forget himself, and brings them up to trail fingertips over Flint’s thigh before dropping them again to his lap. He joins his fingers together, maybe to remind himself of their uselessness.

Flint goes deep, probably too deep, before pulling away completely, leaving Silver gasping for air, mouth reddened and wide, shiny with spit. Silver doesn’t wait to catch his breath before he’s licking at the head with the flat of his tongue, then closing his lips over it to suck gently. It’s too gentle for Flint to get any kind of gratification. Silver knows this of course, has taken every instruction Flint has given him and stored it away in detailed memory. Now, he often likes to use this knowledge of Flint’s preferences against him, and it drives Flint absolutely mad with need.

He’s ready when Flint pushes a little further, hums against the sensation until Flint pushes a little too far again, and Silver can’t help but choke with it this time. Flint pulls out, concerned for a moment, but Silver just looks up at him panting with dark determination, a trail of spit hangs from his lips. Sloppy wet is always preferable to the opposite. Flint guides himself inside once more, slowly this time to make it last a little longer.

He touches Silver’s mouth stretched wide, bobbing slowly with the rock of Flint’s hips. Silver hates that, when Flint interrupts his concentration with unpredictable fingertips in inconvenient places. With the absence of his hands, Silver jerks his head away a little, but Flint keeps touching until Silver gives up and lets him do as he pleases.

It’s smooth and practiced after that, once Flint lets himself be taken over by the feel of it. Silver draws an orgasm out of him so easily now. _Fuck,_ Flint has taught him well. When he pulls back, Silver pants, waiting with his lips touching the head of Flint’s cock, as Flint strokes himself steadily. He thinks about spreading Silver wide and fucking into him right now on this patio, under the stars and torchlight, but he can’t wait for that. Silver is flushed and patiently waiting for it, so Flint will come here instead, onto the plains of Silver’s face, across his forehead and cheekbones and lips. There’s time for the rest later. His hand speeds until he’s coming and can’t help the sounds escaping him as a single moment fills his whole body up with uninhibited pleasure. When it hits him, Silver flinches instinctually, but doesn’t turn away. He catches some of it on his tongue and licks his lips, while the rest falls to his cheeks, and eyelids, and beard.

After he gathers himself together again, Flint combs Silver’s hair back from his face first, then gently swipes at the come covering Silver’s closed eyelids with his thumb, knowing the sting is never pleasant. Silver purrs with contentment, leaning into the affectionate gesture. The way he’s subtly rubbing at his own erection through layers of cloth with the heels of his bound hands does not go unnoticed either. No, Flint thinks he might like Silver to fuck him this night, hands still bound as Flint rides his cock. There’s barely contained energy inside him, but he waits for Flint’s permission. He knows how this works, after all.

“What would the princess think of you now? If she saw you like this?”

Flint doesn’t know why he says it; The jealousy and possession and genuine curiosity are too tightly coiled to separate into any one reason.

“ _Fuck you_ ,” Silver replies easily, voice a little scratchy with irritation but otherwise void of conviction. His eyes are still closed. “You shouldn’t be so cruel,” he adds after a moment, but slides his scratchy beard over Flint’s hand instead of pulling away as Flint thought he might.

Flint regrets what he said immediately, and can’t help himself now, not with Silver in this state and the: _I’m sorry I’m such a rotten fuck who is too ruined of you not to push too far,_ that threatens to spill from his lips. Instead, Flint leans down with a hand under Silver’s chin to lift his head and kisses his cheekbone before swiping his tongue across the sticky come covering Silver’s face. He tastes himself and Silver’s sweat and the rum from earlier.     

He leaves a kiss against Silver’s skin for every _sorry_ left unsaid.

+ 

When the island birds are beginning to wake, calling out a morning greeting to the rising sun, Flint removes the belt from Silver’s wrists, releasing him. Silver holds his arms up to examine the reddened and purpling bruises beginning to take shape. They aren’t that bad. Not really. Not when considering the numerous and more severe injuries both have endured over the last year. Flint takes one wrist and presses into the skin there, eliciting a small grunt from Silver. He tries to pull away, but Flint holds tight.

“What will you say?” Flint asks.

Silver presses into the bruise just above Flint’s grip, curling his lip in slight pain. Flint thinks he might like the reminder of last night being so visible.

“Captain Flint and I fucked all night,” Silver states evenly, eyebrow raised. “His emotional need to possess me, to know without doubt that he is desired above all else, sometimes manifests into a need for physical dominance.”

“You’re such a shit,” Flint replies, letting go to turn his face into the pillows, hiding the flush crawling across his cheeks. “You left out the part where it makes you hard,” Flint says into the pillows, a smile stretching over his lips. “And the part where you push me on purpose.”

Silver sits up, arching his back. He’s fully awake now. “Oh, believe me, I couldn’t possibly leave out those details.”

Flint is silent while Silver washes up with water from a small basin near the door, and dresses for the day. It’s a slow process to find his clothing and hobble about the room, but Flint knows Silver would never stand for help with these small day-to-day matters.

“You’re leaving,” Flint says finally, just as Silver is reaching for the crutch.

“As should you,” Silver replies, and bends to retrieve Flint’s forgotten shirt and throws it at him. “Rackham and Teach and Anne will be expecting us.”

They haven’t made any specific plans yet on what to say, but Flint is finding himself trusting of Silver’s instincts on the matter. Flint’s innate pessimism leads him to believe any convincing argument won’t stop the three of them from making plans to avenge the death of Vane anyway, but there’s no harm in letting Silver try.

Silver stops in the doorway, his shirt rolled to his elbows so the bruises are more than obvious to anyone who cares to notice. He must have something further to say though, because he turns and comes back to the side of the bed, frowning. He kneels on the bed and reaches for Flint’s shoulder, bringing his mouth to Flint’s. Flint kisses him without hesitation.

When they pull apart, Silver gently says, “Affection and desire are two very different things, James.” He stops to consider his words carefully. “She won’t ever touch the depth of what I feel for you. Not at the end of this conflict, and not at the beginning of what comes next.”

Flint nods, feeling his whole body warm at the open truth of it. For all the lies Silver has told him, he knows this is genuine, can see how Silver is trying his best to convey it as certainty. He’s exceptional at telling a convincing lie, but to tell the truth convincingly is something entirely different.

“I think you know these things, but need to hear them said aloud,” Silver thinks out loud.

“I will try to listen,” is all Flint can think to say, but it seems to be enough, because Silver just nods and presses a final kiss to Flint’s lips before turning towards the door again.

Flint will always try.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments are very much appreciated. Since it seems to be what all the cool kids do these days, find me on Tumblr as [samedifference61](http://samedifference61.tumblr.com/)


End file.
